


Curiouser and Curiouser

by InvisibleMe9739



Category: Heart no Kuni no Alice | Alice in the Country of Hearts, Sly Cooper - Fandom
Genre: Crossover, F/M, trial of the Knave of Hearts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1775326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvisibleMe9739/pseuds/InvisibleMe9739
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice and friends bear witness to the trial of accused thief, the Knave of Hearts, in a re-mastering of a scene from the original "Alice in Wonderland". Who is this strange criminal? Did he really take the Queen's tarts? More questions than answers arise from the trial that takes place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curiouser and Curiouser

The King and Queen of Hearts were already on their thrones by the time Alice arrived in court with Griffon and Mark, looking out at the buzzing crowd of those without Duties with an air of indifference. Alice mostly eyed Vivaldi. Despite her seemingly calm outward appearance, the Queen’s hands were gripped tightly to the arms of her throne, her eyes glittering with icy malice. It was clear she was just moments away from ordering an execution for everyone in the throne room.

Alice shivered at the thought and tightened her grip on Griffon’s hand. Mark, who was holding Alice’s other hand, led her through the crowd to the very front, next to the jury box.

“What’s going on?” Alice asked him, looking around in the court room to see if anyone she recognized was attending as well. There was Boris across the room, swatting at Gowland’s braid. Dee and Dum were a short ways away from where Alice stood, chatting excitedly (probably about weapons) while Elliot stood next to them with his arms folded. Even Julius managed to drag himself out of the Clock Tower to attend, though he didn’t look too happy about it. He stood in the middle of the crowd, arms folded as well, while Ace joked about something at his side. Peter White, who was standing next to Vivaldi’s throne with trumpet and scroll in hand, caught Alice’s eye and waved enthusiastically, much to her annoyance.

“A trial, of course,” the sad looking man snorted. “What else goes on in a court room?”

Fighting the urge to sigh in exasperation, Alice looked up at the twelve jurors—she was proud that she was one of the few girls her age to know what the word even meant—and saw each one was busily scribbling on their clipboards.

 _Curiouser and curiouser,_ she thought, a phrase she found herself repeating quite often lately, and asked Griffon, “What is there to put down when the trial hasn’t even begun?”

“They’re writing their names,” he explained in a hushed tone, “in case they forget them by the end of the trial.”

“How stupid!”

The last statement was said loud enough for the jurors to hear. Immediately they all scribbled “How stupid” on their clipboards, though most of them, Alice noticed, couldn’t even spell “stupid” properly and had to ask the person beside them. At this rate there would be no room to write anything about the actual trial.

At a cue from the King, Peter raised the trumpet to his lips and let out three short blasts. Everyone quieted down to listen to the rabbit command, “Bring in the prisoner!”

With a loud _WHOOSH_ , the large oak doors flew open and a man in chains was escorted in by two faceless guards. Only when the accused reached the stand did Alice realize with a jolt she recognized him.

“That man stole my shoes then bought me dinner,” Alice whispered to Griffon.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Herald!” the King of Hearts commanded to the Prime Minister of the Court of Hearts, silencing the crowd. “Read the accusation.”

“I thought his name was Peter,” one of the jurors muttered to his neighbor.

“Yes, my King.” Peter bowed slightly and blew on his trumpet again before unrolling the scroll and read:

_“The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts,_

_All on a summers day._

_The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts,_

_And took them quite away.”_  

Mutterings were set aflutter through the courtroom as the Knave of Hearts shrugged carelessly and said, “I didn’t even know the Queen baked.”

 _That’s a pathetic alibi,_ thought Alice. _He’s definitely a rotten little thief._

Still, she couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked, considering his clothes were horrendously filthy. Actually, everything about him looked in need of a good scrubbing. Mud spiked his hair in places and leaves and twigs stuck out in others. Dirt, grime, and a crooked smile were plastered on his face. Still lingering on his face, Alice stared at his warm chocolate-brown eyes which twinkled in amusement, as if he wasn’t dangerously close to having his head lopped off.

Her face started to pink slightly for some reason.

Just when Alice was beginning to wonder if he remembered her, the Knave of Hearts noticed her stare and turned to look at her with mild surprise. And then he smiled and winked flirtatiously at her. She blushed furiously and turned away. Still grinning, he turned back to face the King and Queen of Hearts.

Alice lifted her head to look at him once again. Most of all, Alice was drawn to the peaceful and relaxed vibe he gave off. Like a breath of fresh air, he seemed to calm everyone around him.

Except for the Queen, that is. By now her face was redder than her dress and a vein throbbed in her left temple. She also gripped her throne with such intensity, Alice almost felt sorry for it.

“And another thing,” the accused continued with a sigh of exaggerated patience, “ _Knave_ of Hearts? Really, Petey-wetey, it’s bad enough you made the accusation into a silly poem without the use of such an old-fashioned title.”

Peter, already red with anger, turned a brighter scarlet when Alice giggled involuntarily.

“Seriously Tighty-Whitey,” the unkempt Knave said, encouraged by her reaction, “Knave of Hearts was my predecessor. This is a new generation; I am the Jack of Hearts, and I kindly ask you to call me such.”

The mutterings from the audience intensified. Smoke rose up from the juror’s box from all the energetic note-taking. One juror even snapped the point of his pencil. He looked at the broken writing stick mournfully for a moment before trying to make it write anyway. Needless to say, it didn’t work.

“Enough!” boomed the King of Hearts. “Call the first witness!”

“First witness would be the Hatter, Your Majesty.”

Alice inhaled sharply as yet another familiar face strode gracefully to the front of the room. Crowned in his signature black hat adorned with amethyst roses, Blood Dupre was outfitted in a crisp white suit with multicolored heart, spade, clover, and diamond buttons. A cold smile played on his lips as he bowed slightly to the King and Queen before sitting in the wooden chair that acted as the witness stand. (There wasn’t much need for one—any criminals were typically ordered to be executed by the Queen before they even made it to trial.)

“State your name for the court,” the king commanded.

The leader of the Hatters dipped his head respectfully to the King before doing as he was told.

“Do you know this man?” The King nodded to the Jack, who happily smiled and waved at Dupre like an excited school girl. Blood’s smile vanished.

“Yes,” he growled, glaring at the disheveled thief, “I know him.”

“How?”

“That _man_ —” he practically spat the word “—has stolen from me on multiple occasions.”

“And what has he taken?”

“Very priceless items, I can assure you. Books, paintings, furniture, my hat . . .”

“Your . . . hat?” The King raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, sire. He also sneaks into my mansion at night and draws on the faces of my underlings as they sleep.”

The three victims shot an acidic glare at the culprit, who was visibly fighting back laughter.

“So if he could break into your mansion and steal your hat without your detection,” the King continued, “it’s very possible for him to steal the Queen’s tarts from right under our noses?”

“Of course,” Dupre scowled (or rather, scowled deeper). “In fact, you might want to comb the castle once more to make sure he didn’t take anything else.”

“Objection!” the Jack cried, jabbing a finger at the Hatter. “That statement is crap and I demand it be stricken from the records!”

“Overruled! And the accused can’t object in their own trial.”

“Point made!” the Jack dropped his hand and looked away sheepishly. Gosh, he looked so adorable when he was embarrassed. The corners of Alice’s lips quirked into a small smile. Out of all the inhabitants of the Land of Hearts, he seemed the most natural, the most genuine. Everyone else had an ulterior (if not, darker) motive behind their every action—except for him. He stood out somehow, almost as if. . . .

No. It wasn’t possible. . . . Was it?

“. . . of the Gowland Amusement Park.” Peter’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Alice shook her head to clear her mind. Now was not the time for spacing out.

The next witness was someone Alice hadn’t seen before. She was a brunette dressed in a simple white chef’s uniform. It wasn’t until the witness sat down did she see the cook’s face—or lack thereof. _I guess even those without Duties count as witnesses,_ Alice thought.

The King didn’t bother asking the cook her name and went straight to questioning her relationship with the criminal.

“I don’t know him very well” she replied in a soft voice. “He would come into the main kitchen at the amusement park and ask for food, usually desserts. His favorite was plum pie.”

“And damn good pie it was, too,” the Jack of Hearts proclaimed theatrically, earning a faint smile and blush from the cook.

“Silence!” the King hissed then turned back to the witness. “Has he ever stolen from the kitchen or anywhere else in the amusement park?”

Intimidated by the King’s booming voice and the Queen’s glare, the cook look down and shook her head vigorously.

“Alright then. Dismissed.”

The cook couldn’t get out of there fast enough. You’d think she was being chased by a monster or something. _That’s actually not very far off the mark. . ._ Alice thought sneaking yet another glance at Vivaldi.

The King of Hearts let out a weary and almost disappointed sigh, like he was hoping she’d say otherwise. “Darling, maybe you should cross examine a little bit. This whole ordeal _is_ rather tiring. . . .” The monarch trailed off at the venomous look from his wife and waved unenthusiastically at Peter to call the next witness.

Adjusting his glasses, Peter peered down onto the scroll in his hand and inhaled sharply.

“Um,” he cleared his throat. “A-Alice the Outsider to the stand, please.”

“Outsider?” the Jack of Hearts cocked his head to the side quizzically. “There is an Outsider?”

Everyone in the room turned to face the girl in question, who stood there with her eyes wide in surprise. Pulling his chains as far as they would allow, the accused turned to regard the girl in question.

For a moment, the whole courtroom fell away as the pair locked eyes on each other. Griffon and Mark squeezed her hands to get her attention, but Alice didn’t really notice. Instead, she was more occupied with the way those pools of chocolate filled with what might’ve been surprised recognition for a moment before shining with something she couldn’t recognize. It reminded her of the way lovely Mr. Dodgson would look at her, before he stopped coming to visit. Her heart started to race as she thought of all the different reasons behind that look.

Oh dear. She was turning into Ina.

Just thinking about her melodramatic sister brought Alice crashing back to reality. Tearing her gaze from the Jack’s, Alice made her way to the stand in silence, very aware of the chocolate eyes that followed her across the room.

He wasn’t the only one. Peter watched her awkwardly move through the mass and sit in the chair to his right. He burned with jealousy at the brief exchange his precious Alice had with that despicable criminal. She never looked at Peter that way—usually she had annoyance or anger in her expression whenever she looked at him. Even in his rabbit form, the most he got out of Alice was the joy a small child would give her favorite stuffed animal. Nothing more. It was infuriating.

Just as she approached the stand, Alice glanced over to where the livid Queen of Hearts sat on her throne. Her eyes still burned with anger but at this proximity Alice could see something else.

Alice quickly looked away, shocked and confused. There was no mistaking it. Underneath the rage was pure terror.

What had frightened Vivaldi so? What _was_ there to be afraid of when you’re one of the most powerful people in the Land of Hearts? Yes, a robbery was a harsh blow to one’s sense of security, but surely one little plate of tarts from the castle’s kitchen wasn’t enough to shatter it completely….was it?

_Curiouser and curiouser…_

“State your name for the court,” said the King.

Smoothing down the front of her skirts, Alice cleared her throat and replied in a quiet voice.

“Speak up, child, so the court can hear!”

“Alice,” she repeated a bit louder. “Alice Liddell.”

“What is your relationship with the accused?”

“I-I barely know him, Your Highness,” Alice stammered. “I only met him once in the woods—”

“He didn’t hurt you did he?!” Peter blurted out then shot a murderous look at the accused. “I’ll kill him if he—”

“Excuse me?!” the Jack shouted, outraged. “How dare you insinuate that I’d do such a thing to Miss Alice!”

“It’s hardly an insinuation, you wretched thief!”

“Order!” The King slammed his gavel on the arm of his throne before things got out of hand. “Prime Minister, you would do well to remain quiet, as would the accused!”

The two men fell into an angry silence, both glaring hatefully at the other. The King sighed through the nose.

“Now, Miss Alice, please tell the jury what happened when you met the accused.”

Alice took a deep breath and addressed the audience. “Well, I was walking back to the Clock Tower from the amusement park alone one night when a noise frightened me off the path. That man—” she gestured to the criminal “—found me and pointed me in the right direction.”

“What about the shoes and buying dinner?” Griffon called out from the audience.

Alice’s face turned red. She was hoping he had forgotten her little statement from earlier, or at least wouldn’t think to bring it up. “W-well he wouldn’t tell me who he was and I was curious, so when he left I kind of…um…followed him.”

Several in the audience gasped and started whispering to themselves.

“Is she crazy?”

“Following a strange man in the woods . . .”

“. . . dangerous. What if he killed her?”

“Naïve outsider . . .”

While the King of Hearts commanded for silence, Alice turned redder at their words. The Jack smiled sympathetically at her, which only served to make things worse. When the noise finally eased, the King asked her what happened when she followed the accused.

“I lost him,” she replied, looking down at her hands. “It was really dark and he just disappeared. Frightened, I turned around and there he was, holding a pair of shoes. It took me a second to notice they were mine.”

“He stole your shoes right off your feet?” asked the King just as Peter exclaimed, “You fool! She could’ve gotten sick or cut her foot or—”

“Oh pipe it, Petey,” the Jack of Hearts snapped at the white haired man, “She was perfectly safe and only a weakling like you gets sick from going barefoot—”

“Silence!” the King boomed. “I will NOT ask you again! Both of you!”

The two fell silent as the King regained his calm. Alice was surprised by the monarch. Usually this soft-spoken sovereign (in title only) preferred to leave the ordering to his wife. Never had Alice even imagined he could be so harsh and commanding.

“Now then,” the King said, turning his attention back to Alice, “he stole your shoes right off your feet?”

She nodded. “He gave them back, as you can see.” She tapped her toes for emphasis.

“And then?”

Alice didn’t want to go into “and then”. She’d rather forget “and then”, especially since the jurors were so adamant about recording every word of this trial. She sneaked a peek up at the Jack, and quickly looked away when she saw an amused smile on his face. Well, now there’s no doubt that he remembers her . . .

Swallowing nervously, Alice decided to leave out the details. “And then he told me it wasn’t safe for a girl to be following a strange man around in the woods. After that he returned my shoes and walked me back to the Clock Tower.”

“And what about dinner?” Peter asked, frowning.

The tips of Alice’s ears turn red. “He bought me a meat pie from a traveling circus along the way.”

Peter narrowed his eyes but remembered the King’s warning and kept his jealousy to himself. “More evidence that the accused is a thief,” he said to the jury, “I think that’s enough to convi—”

“Hang on!” Alice jumped to her feet and scowled at Peter. “I told you he gave them back! He was just trying to teach me a lesson.”

“That’s no lesson,” Peter said indignantly, “That’s—that’s—”

“None of your business! And so far I’m not seeing any _real_ evidence that he’s the thief.”

“Oh really?” The King leaned forward on his elbows, interlocking his fingers. “How so, Miss Alice?”

She blinked in surprise then cleared her throat to hide her embarrassment. No turning back now.

“Well,” she started slowly, “for one, Blood claims his things were taken, but I was over there not too long ago and I didn’t notice anything missing. Plus, he still has his hat, doesn’t he? You can’t say something’s stolen when it isn’t even gone.”

Everyone turned to look at the Hatter. Turning a little pink himself, Dupre turned his head and casually studied the wall to his left. No further proof was needed to validate the girl’s claim.

“And another thing,” Alice continued with renewed determination, “what was the cook from the amusement park’s point in coming here? If the court was so determined to prove him guilty, why bring her here?”

“I don’t know how the courts in _your_ world are operated,” the King of Hearts said coldly, “but here we question every person that knows or came into contact with the accused prior to the trial.”

 _Goodness,_ Alice thought, _no wonder there are few trials here. With so many witnesses to question, it would be easier to just to order an execution. . . ._ Looking over at the Jack, she immediately felt guilty for thinking that.

“Well then,” she continued, “either way, her testimony is further proof of his _innocence_ , not his guilt.”

Those who weren’t stunned into silence gasped. Alice was pleased to see a number of the audience—and a few of the jurors—start to nod in agreement. Maybe there was hope yet. A faint smile played on her lips.

Peter cleared his throat and said softly, “You are dismissed, Alice.”

Relieved, Alice dipped her head to the King and Queen and scurried back to her spot next to Griffon and Mark. Both glanced at her with mixed emotions then turned their attention back to the proceedings.

The King and Peter were discussing what just happened in hushed tones. The jury all leaned forward to catch their words, and wrote down what they thought they heard. Alice sneaked a glance at one juror’s clipboard and saw, to her horror, the entire page was covered with seemingly random letters strung together, most of which overlapped each other. Out of the chaos, Alice gathered that part of what the juror heard was:

 

Not guilty?

Stolen

Not there when guards looked

Someone else then?

Who?

 

 _Well at least they’re considering someone else,_ Alice mused. She only wished that the juror heard more.

On impulse she looked over at the Jack and jumped when she saw him staring right at her. Something between gratitude and curiosity flickered in his eyes, while the rest of his face remained unreadable. He looked at her for a few more seconds then faced forward once more. Alice let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding.

“Enough of this,” the King sighed wearily as he massaged his eyebrow. “Herald, your turn to question the witness.”

“Yes, Highness,” Peter dipped his head respectfully. “Actually, there is only one person left to question. The accused may stay where he is.”

“Oh goodie!” Jack clapped his hands in excitement to the best of ability, considering he’s shackled at the wrists. “My turn!”

 _Last one?_ Alice arched her eyebrows. _Only_ three _people know him?_

Visibly trying to muster what little patience he had left, Peter inhaled deeply and said, “State your name.”

“My name,” the thief began melodramatically, “is Jack Cooper. Listing all my occupations is too time-consuming and rather redundant at this point, but you may know me as the Jack of Hearts and the Jack of all trades, master of…a lot actually.” He chuckled.

“Is it true you also perform petty crimes like stealing a goose and a harp from a giant in the Country of Clover?” Peter questioned.

“I would hardly call that petty,” Jack snorted, “ _you_ try scaling a beanstalk that stretched past the clouds.”

“Nonetheless, you stole from the local giant?”

“Of course. I’m a Cooper. It’s what I do.”

 _That does_ that _mean?_ Alice wondered. As far as she knew, the average cooper didn’t rob people, though what exactly they did she couldn’t recall.

“So, is it true that you stole the tarts our blessed monarch poured her heart and soul into making?” Peter demanded.

Jack smiled. The jurors leaned forward in their seats, pencils at the ready. The entire court waited with bated breath until the accused finally spoke.

“Yes, I stole them. Sorry Miss Alice.”

The audience gasped.

Alice’s jaw dropped. Usually criminals deny the charges, even if the evidence was overwhelming—and yet this . . . this . . . _blockhead_ admits to the crime without even the batting an eye! And so frankly, too! It was almost like he was proud of his crime.

Does that mean this whole trial was a big waste of time?

Suddenly she was deeply regretting speaking out earlier.

“You know,” Jack joked despite the stunned expressions on everyone’s faces, “if I had known the Queen poured her _heart_ and _soul_ into those tarts, I would’ve given them back sooner. What an awful taste they must have!”

Once more the audience gasped. A woman with peacock feathers in her hair swooned. Others, Mark included, even crossed themselves, much to Alice’s surprise and mild amusement.

That was the straw that broke Vivaldi’s back. Jumping to her feet, the Queen of Hearts screamed, “OFF WITH HIS HEAD! OFF WITH HIS HEAD!” Immediately the entire room was in an uproar, spurred on by the monarch’s wrath.

The King slammed his gavel on the arm of his throne and bellowed, “Order! Order!”

The cacophony died down quickly until to room was silent once again. Vivaldi was still on her feet, trembling with rage.

“Was it something I said?” Jack asked innocently.

The King sighed. “Any further questions herald?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Peter said, his eyes never leaving Jack. “Why? Out of all the valuables in the castle, why go through the trouble of breaking in just to steal the Queen’s tarts?”

The room got quieter, if that was at all possible. Even the jurors stopped writing to pay closer attention.

All eyes were on the Queen—except for one particular pair of deep blues. Alice studied Jack’s face for his reaction instead of the moody monarch’s. For a while, he simply matched Peter’s stare evenly, almost coldly. There was a sort of danger in those once kind eyes. A shiver shot up her spine. In a matter of seconds the easygoing Jack of Hearts’ entire demeanor changed from warm and friendly to that of an unfeeling killer. He didn’t even have to drop the smile.

Alice—along with a good two-thirds of the court—flinched as Jack quietly replied to Peter’s question.

“Why else?” was all he said, sending a chill throughout the audience.

Apparently the Queen and Blood Dupre knew “why else”. While everyone’s face was a mix between confusion and revulsion, the pair blanched. Vivaldi slowly sank back into her seat, her fear plain in her face. Blood, on the other hand, was white with rage. Any second he’d snap and pull his gun on Jack.

The subtle hostility in Jack’s demeanor dissolved as quickly as it came as he let out a loud sigh. “Oh dear, it seems everyone’s gone and upset themselves. I think it’s time I go now. Don’t get me wrong, I had fun. But all good things must end, I’m afraid.”

“Go?” Peter demanded. “You’re chained and shackled! You’re not going anywhere.”

“Chained and shackled are relatively the same things, thus rendering that statement redundant.” Jack smiled. “But nice try though. As for these bonds . . .”

Everyone watched as Jack did a cross between a shrug and a shake. The shackles popped open and the chains clattered to the floor.

Several women screamed. With a potentially dangerous criminal free in a rather small room, everyone wanted out. Jack turned and raised an eyebrow at the sight of a swarm of people frantically pushing past the large red double doors and race out of the castle until the only people left were Blood, Peter, Alice, and the King and Queen.

“I’m a thief, not a murderer,” Jack muttered.

Vivaldi snapped out of her petrified state. Leaping to her feet once more, she started demanding that her guards “recapture the fiend”. As a mob of faceless guards poured into the throne room, Jack kicked his chains aside and bolted for the nearest window—the one right next to Alice. She let out a small gasp as he looped an arm around her waist and dived out the window.

In books, falling from a great height is romanticized as a moment of hanging suspended in midair registering your predicament followed by what feels like an eternity of agonizing over it.

That was a load of rubbish. Alice didn’t even have time to scream before Jack summersaulted in midair and landed gracefully on his feet right in the palace courtyard. Alice wriggled out of his arms and stepped back.

“What in the world did you do that for?!” she demanded.

“I’m a Cooper,” he shrugged. “It’s what I—”

A sound slap to the face cut him off. Jack stared at Alice in surprise as he placed a hand on his wounded cheek.

“Don’t _say_ that!” she snapped. “I don’t may not know about what a cooper is or what they do, but that doesn’t give you a reason to do whatever you want! I _hate_ men like you!”

Jack recoiled slightly, like her words hurt more than the slap. Alice balled her hands into fists. “Just because you’re pinned with a title or label doesn’t make it true. And it sure does NOT give you the right to use it as an excuse! Own up to your faults dammit!”

Alice’s hands flew to her mouth. The profanity had slipped out on its own. That’s never happened before. If her mother had heard that, she was sure there would be hell to pay.

Jack looked down at her in silence, studying her face. Alice swallowed and squared her shoulders defiantly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jack was quiet for a few moments longer before saying, “What an interesting girl you are, Miss Alice.”

“What does that have to do with anythi—”

Jack interrupted her by cupping her face in his hands and kissing her full on the lips. Before Alice had a chance to register what was going on he let her go and smiled. “In case you’re wondering, check the palace kitchens behind the heart right over the ovens. You might want to look behind you though.”

“Be . . . hind . . . me?” Dazed, Alice looked back and found the courtyard behind her empty. When she turned back around, Jack was gone without a trace.

“How does he do that?” she wondered aloud.

 _Never mind that now,_ the working part of her brain persisted, _what was he talking about?_

Pulling her mind out of the daze, Alice thought back, trying to figure out what the thief was referring to. That was when she remembered. It didn’t connect at the time, but there was one thing he said that didn’t quite make sense.

 _“You know, if I had known the Queen poured her_ heart _and_ soul _into those tarts, I would’ve given them back sooner. What an awful taste they must have!”_

Given them back sooner.

That rotten little thief.

 

~ † ♥ † ~

 

“In here, Your Majesty,” Alice said, opening the simple wooden door.

Vivaldi, along with her husband, Peter, and a few guards, followed the girl into the large kitchen. Usually cooks and servants bustled about preparing the day’s meals, but Vivaldi sent an order ahead as soon as she heard from Alice demanding the kitchens be emptied.

“Well?” the impatient Queen pressed. “Where is it?”

Looking around, Alice saw with dismay that there were only three ovens and none of them had a heart over it. The guards examined the entire wall the ovens lined for any markings.

Nothing. Not even the smallest semblance of a heart to be found.

Vivaldi turned to regard Alice coldly. “We do not like being taken on wild goose-chases. Now if you’ll excuse us. . .”

“Wait!” Alice grabbed her arm just as she turned to walk away. “Hold on, I know it’s here! Let me take a look.”

Without waiting for a reply, Alice walked over to the first oven and ran her hands over the wall, feeling for a flaw in the smooth stone. She tried to ignore her companions as they watched her move to the next oven.

Nothing there either. Dread started to settle in the pit of her stomach. She was so sure Jack was telling the truth. That he wasn’t just making up stories so he could escape.

Now that she thought about, that’s probably exactly what happened.

And she fell for it.

 _Hang on now,_ that rational part of her brain said, _there’s still one more oven left. It wouldn’t hurt to check just in case . . ._

Taking a deep breath, Alice moved over to the final oven and felt the wall. It was cold and smooth with no break in the—wait a minute. There was a small indention in the stone, so small Alice wondered if she had imagined it. Not moving her fingers from the indention, Alice pressed down lightly.

A curved section of the wall started to give way.

Her heart started to race as she pressed down harder. Suddenly an insignia of some kind started to glow an unearthly green light. Alice gasped and stumbled backwards into Peter’s arms. She looked up in surprise. She hadn’t even notice him come up behind her.

Just as quickly as it came, the insignia disappeared and a large heart-shaped section of wall slid down, revealing a medium sized cubby. Inside the cubby was a plate of heart-shaped pastries stacked into a neat pyramid. Vivaldi let out a small gasp and Peter tightened his grip on Alice’s arms.

It was the Queen’s tarts, right where Jack said they would be. Stuck on a toothpick at the apex of the pyramid was a small blue and white card in the shape of the insignia that blazed on the wall just moments before.

 _Now that I get a better look at it,_ Alice thought, _it looks like the head of a fox or raccoon. Curiouser and curiouser . . ._

While one of the guards pulled the plate out of the cubby, Peter frowned.

“What is it?” Alice asked.

“The walls of this castle are made of solid rock, as far as I know,” he replied solemnly, “so, I find it strange that this cavity is here. Concerning, even.”

“Why?”

“Well, how can someone who’s never been in the castle before today know about something the _Queen_ didn’t even know about?”

Realization dawned on Alice. She looked over at Vivaldi and saw that she was scowling like she was wondering the same thing.

“And even if he didn’t know about the hole in the wall,” Peter continued, “when did he have time to make something like this? A better question would be when did he have the time to hide the tarts in the first place? He was arrested only two time changes after the tarts were found missing from the Queen’s quarters.”

Alice was stunned. She knew a bit of the layout of the castle and knew Vivaldi’s room was at the topmost floor, while the kitchen was closer to the basement. And time changes were getting more frequent lately. The only explanation Alice could think of was Jack hid away the tarts right after he took them from the Queen’s chambers.

But why? What’s the point in giving back what you stole right after taking it? That seemed more difficult than just stealing it.

Just as Alice was starting to get a headache from all this reasoning, someone laid a hand on her shoulder. She turned. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“We would like to thank you,” Vivaldi said. “Without you we would have never found our tarts.”

Alice almost reminded her that Jack was the one that told her in the first place, but decided that wasn’t such a good idea. “It’s no problem, really.”

Vivaldi’s eyes filled with concern. “You look tired. Why don’t you rest up in one of the guest rooms?”

Alice shook her head. “I feel fine and need to get back to the Clock Tower.” _If I don’t, Julius will forget to eat dinner . . . again . . ._

Vivaldi nodded. “Alright. Be safe walking home and don’t get lost. You might run into another criminal.”

“Very true,” Alice laughed tightly and walked out of the kitchens, “I’ll try to visit soon.”

“Please do.” Vivaldi watched as her subjects exited the kitchens and the outsider close the door carefully behind her. As soon as everyone had gone, the monarch gingerly picked up the plate of tarts and opened a blackened door in the far corner, where it escaped the notice of anyone who wasn’t looking for it.

A blast of warm air hit her face as she entered a dark hallway, lit only by a faint light from far away. Without that light, Vivaldi would never have noticed the stone stairs at the end of the corridor.

Very carefully she ascended, keeping a tight grip on the plate. Vivaldi squinted as she was greeted by a harsh light and the smell of the outside. Shielding her eyes with one hand, Vivaldi stepped out into a rose garden. She strode to a small but elegant table for two in the middle of the garden and set her burden down with a sigh of relief.

“So, you found them after all.” A voice behind her made her jump. Vivaldi whirled around, brandishing her scepter, then put a hand over her heart when she saw who it was.

“How dare you scare us like that!” she snapped. “We could have had a heart attack!”

“That would require a heart now would it?” Dupre chuckled, taking a seat at the table.

“Oh, be quiet.” Despite the cutting remark, Vivaldi smiled and sat down in the other chair.

Dupre’s expression grew serious. “That was a close one, sister dear. If he had really taken those tarts . . .”

Vivaldi shuddered. “We do not want to think of it. For now, we are just glad that they have returned untouched.”

“I don’t feel the same. There is still a chance he will take them again, and he might not be so inclined to return them a second time.”

“But—”

“You know I’m right.” Blood looked directly into her eyes. “I refuse to risk your safety, not when it can be easily prevented. . . . Let me hide the tarts. Before you say anything—” he waved a hand to cut off her protests “—I know the perfect place. No one, not even that fiend Cooper, will ever find them again.”

Vivaldi hesitated. As much as she trusted the Hatter, there was still that lingering fear of losing her precious tarts. If they ever fell into the wrong hands . . . The thought made her nauseas.

Dupre waited with boundless patience for the Queen to make a decision. He noted the way she wrung her hands like a frightened child and felt a twinge of sadness. He hated seeing her like this, and hated the wretch who put her in this position in the first place even more. One of these days, he was going to get even.

“Alright,” she said after several minutes of silence, “we trust you not to lose them as we have done.”

Blood nodded. He pulled a small pouch out of his coat pocket and very gently placed the pastries inside. Vivaldi was tense as she watched with bated breath and only relaxed slightly when the pouch was safely in his pocket.

“Let’s head back to our territories,” Blood said, standing. “It would be troublesome if your subjects started wondering where you wandered off to.”

“We agree,” Vivaldi replied as she pushed herself to her feet. “Farewell, Hatter.”

“Farewell, Your Majesty.”

As the pair returned to their respective territories, a pair of eyes the color of dried blood watched the exchange from a tree branch high above the garden. A sinister grin glowed white under those eyes in sharp contrast to the shadows around it.

“Curiouser and curiouser. . .”

**Author's Note:**

> For those who have read the original story, Griffon was a reference to the Gryphon (original, I know) and Mark was a reference to the Mock Turtle.
> 
> Also, I know Ace could be considered the Knave of Hearts, but considering that Those with Duties in the Land of Hearts tend to have just the one role corresponding to a deck of cards or the original story, I'm going to go with the Knave of Hearts being a completely different person.


End file.
